


Coming Home

by reservoirgays



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, not much plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reservoirgays/pseuds/reservoirgays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade keeps hanging around Peter's apartment. Peter's not sure what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

Wade annoys the _shit_ out of Peter sometimes.

No, seriously. It’s 4 in the morning and Wade is in his kitchen. Cooking something. At four. In. The. Morning.

Also, he doesn’t even have a key.

“How the fuck did you get into my house?” There are so many other questions, but Peter settles on that one, knowing he’ll probably only get one answer.

Wade doesn’t even turn around. “Hey, Spidey-kid! _Please_ tell me you have cheese somewhere in your fridge. It would really suck if I made all this spaghetti and you didn’t even have any cheese. I’ll try a lot of things, but going vegan is _not_ one of them.”

“Wade, seriously. How did you get in my house?”

He puts down the spoon he was using to stir the pasta. “Okay, calm down!” He says, throwing his hands up defensively. “Technically it’s an apartment, not a house, and it really wasn’t- whoa. Hi.”

Wade’s completely facing him now, and he’s sliding his gaze down Peter’s body in a way that makes Peter feel really fucking itchy, like he’s under someone’s microscope.

“What?” He says, swallowing nervously. He should be kicking Wade out right now, _God_. This is stupid.

“Decided to wear panties to bed tonight?”

Peter’s pretty sure he blushes all the way down to his toes. “My- _what_? These aren’t fucking panties, what the fuck!”

“Seriously?” Wade says incredulously, walking closer to him to get a better look. He hums and fits his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Okay, not panties. But close, definitely close. Might as well be.”

Peter rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his stomach, feeling too exposed. Fucking Wade. “Do you even live in this century? They’re called briefs.”

Wade raises his eyebrows. “Uh, I know what briefs look like, kiddo. But you go ahead and keep telling yourself that. And wearing them. Mm.”

Peter backs up against the couch. “Stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat! I didn’t ask for…” He pauses. “Um. Are you bleeding?”

Wade looks down at himself. “Oh, this?” He says apathetically. “Yeah, it’s nothin.’ Had a little trouble on the way here.”

But there’s so much blood that Peter can actually see it soaking through the red fabric of his costume, and that means there’s probably a pretty fucking deep wound under there.

Wade notices him staring and covers it with his hand. “It’s chill, Petey! I always heal, remember? I can barely feel it anymore,” he says, but he winces when he touches it.

Peter sighs resignedly. He can’t believe this is his life.

“Just…go turn off the stove and meet me in my bedroom.”

Wade raises his eyebrows even higher than before. “So _that’s_ why you wore those to bed. You were thinking you would get some.”

Peter shakes his head, walking towards his room. “No, I was _thinking_ that since you’re already here, I might as well patch you up so you don’t bleed all over my carpet.”

Wade doesn’t say anything for a while, and then shouts, “It gets me hot when you boss me around like that!”

Peter ignores him.

**

 

“Ow. Ow. Okay, ow. Ow! You definitely stabbed me harder that time on purpose.”

“No comment,” Peter says, threading the final loop through the gash. He picks up the alcohol and pours a healthy amount of it over the wound.

“Okay, not necessary! It’s gonna heal anyways and all of this will be futile, ouch.”

“Habit,” Peter shrugs. “Do you think it needs a bandage?”

Wade looks down at it. There’s dried blood caking around the sutures, but it’s obvious that the edges of the cut are already starting to shrink.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He pulls down the shirt that Peter lent to him, stretches out across his bed. “Thanks, Spidey-kid.” His voice is softer, like maybe he’s actually being sincere.

“Sure,” Peter says, voice accidentally just as soft. He clears his throat. “Uh, you can stay here for the rest of the night, until it heals. Might as well.”

“Yay, sleepover!” Wade shouts.

“Jesus Christ. Goodnight.” Peter starts to walk out of the room, but turns around when he remembers something. “But seriously, how did you get in?”

Wade smiles at him. “I broke the window.”

**

 

This happens two more times. Peter makes him a key so he’ll stop breaking his goddamn windows.

**

 

“Do you have any chips?” Wade asks, rifling through the cupboard. Peter’s used to waking up and finding him here. He’s not even sure if he has a place of his own, with the amount of times he crashes at Peter’s place.

“I dunno,” Peter shrugs, flopping down on the couch in front of the television. “Maybe.”

Wade follows suit, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels until he settles on Law & Order. “I love this show.”

Peter hums in response because it’s too hot outside for words. The summer is practically baking him alive, and he’s too cheap to keep the A/C running all the time, so he just suffers through it in a puddle of sweat. Wade is being too quiet, which is weird, but Peter can feel his eyes on him. It’s annoying.

He turns toward him. “ _What?”_

Wade nods his head toward Peter. “Decided to go with the panties again, I see. Not-panties. Whatever.”

Peter shrugs unashamedly. “It’s too hot for clothes.”

Wade nods. “Agreed.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, so Peter turns back toward the TV.

Except then Wade is suddenly on the ground in front of him, sliding his hands up Peter’s thighs and looking up at him with huge, dark eyes.

Peter jumps. “Whoa, what are you-“

“C’mon, Petey,” Wade cuts him off, his voice begging. “You’re driving me crazy in these tiny little things. Just let me show my thanks for you letting me stay here so much, okay?”

Peter opens his mouth to protest like he knows he probably should, but Wade is already pressing his mouth right up against his dick through the fabric of his briefs and all that comes out of his mouth is an embarrassing whimper. Wade must take that as affirmation because he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and tugs them down, doesn’t waste any time before he gets his hand on him and starts jerking him off, letting him chub up under his fingers. It’s so fucking warm in the room and his briefs are already getting soaked with sweat, the pleather couch underneath him sticking uncomfortably to his thighs.

“Can I?” Wade asks, tipping his face toward Peter’s now fully hard cock, and it’s the first time Peter has seen him look vulnerable.

Peter’s voice is scratchy when he says, “Yeah.”

And then Wade’s mouth is on him and he doesn’t even care that this is probably a horrible idea because it’s wet and hot and fucking perfect. His tongue is hugging up tight against the underside of his dick, sliding down painfully slow until his nose is practically touching his belly.

“ _Christ_ ,” Peter chokes out, sliding the palm of his hand over the scars on Wade’s head, like he would normally be doing if he was gripping someone’s hair while they sucked him off.

“Wade, that’s-“

“Good?” Wade finishes, pulling off and stroking his dick heavy and tight, his palm warm and slick with spit, the ridges of scars on his hand dragging over Peter’s cock.

“ _Mmmh_ ,” Peter nods, jerking his hips upwards, “Don’t stop, please.”

“You got it,” Wade breathes, lets his tongue drag from root to tip, keeps his fingers wrapped around the base of his dick while he sinks down again and Peter gets caught up in it so much that he fucks into the hot-wet, slick start of Wade’s throat without thinking.

Wade pulls off, choking a little while Peter apologizes again and again and again for doing it.

“Chill out,” Wade laughs. “Just warn a guy next time, okay?” And then he’s sucking him off again without another word, looking up at Peter while he grabs his hand and places it on his head, raises his eyebrows and nods a little like he’s saying _go ahead_.

And Peter does, unsure at first when he pushes his hips upwards, but then he watches the way his cock slides through Wade’s lips and stops holding back, meets Wade on the way up every time he comes down and he can feel how wet and tight his throat is, can see his cock pushing against Wade’s cheek, how full his mouth is of it-

“’m gonna come,” he pants, breathless, and Wade doesn’t even stop, just cups his balls while they draw up tight, and Peter comes, his hand cupped around Wade’s jaw while he whimpers out little _uh uh uh_ noises, feels Wade swallowing all of it like a fucking pro.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shaking while he comes down, dragging his palm over his sweat-slick belly. “ _Fuck_ , Wade.”

“That’s what all the boys say when I’m finished with them,” Wade remarks, wiping his mouth the back of his hand. Peter, half out of his mind, still somehow remembers to offer to reciprocate. He’s about to, but then Wade stands up and he sees the wet spot at the front of Wade’s boxers.

“Holy shit,” he says, his voice strained. “You- just from that?”

Wade shrugs. “I think you look pretty cute when you come.”

**

 

Peter doesn’t know what all of this means. He’s never fucked around with anyone as unpredictable as Wade before, and he feels like outright asking him what they’re doing here would get him nowhere. He’s pretty sure Wade crashes on the couch that night, but he can’t be entirely sure because he goes to bed pretty early and Wade is still watching Law & Order when he stretches, yawns, and says, “Well, I’m gonna turn in.”

Wade snaps the waistband of his briefs when he stands up. Peter smacks his hand.

He keeps coming around Peter’s place after that, and it’s like absolutely nothing changed. They don’t talk about it, and nothing is weird.

Well, it _is_ weird for Peter, since they’re not talking about it at all. It’s a little weird and a little confusing. But apparently not for Wade.

“Hey,” Wade says one night while they’re watching re-runs of Friends.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I have a serious question.”

Peter’s heart drops somewhere into his stomach. He turns toward Wade, trying to look as casual as possible. “What?”

Wade bites his lip, then clears his throat and runs his fingers over the top of his head habitually, like he would if he still had hair. His expression looks tight for a second, but then it evens out and he says, “Okay, real talk. Would you rather become a sex slave for Phoebe or Rachel?”

Peter’s heart returns to its place. He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god. Seriously, that’s your question?”

Wade scoffs and kicks his feet out on the coffee table. “C’mon, just answer the question! This is totally important.”

Peter shakes his head. “Fine, Monica.”

“Okay, that wasn’t an option, but good choice. However, I have to disagree.”

They end up getting into a 40-minute debate about which of the girls would be a better dominatrix and Peter laughs so hard he almost pops a lung, but he can’t pinpoint why he feels vaguely disappointed when he goes to bed.

**

 

Peter wakes up in the middle of the night because Wade is literally sitting on his stomach.

“Huh?” He says, voice sleepy and strained with his weight. “What are you doing?”

Wade kisses him.

Peter inhales sharply, reaches up to cup Wade’s rough jaw in his hand. He’s too sleepy to ask _why_ or _what_ , so he just opens his mouth for him, lets their tongues slide together slow and slick.

Wade pulls back after a few moments, rests his forehead on Peter’s and huffs out a laugh.

“I’m so shitty at this,” he says.

Peter decides that it’s best if he stays quiet, lets him gather his thoughts.

“I like you,” he says, his breath warm against Peter’s lips. “A lot.”

It’s so out of the blue that Peter’s stomach flips.

“I like you and I like staying at your place and hanging around with you and I think you’re super pretty and I wanna put my dick in your butt.”

Peter chokes a little.

“Oh God. That was horrible, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I’m just not really sure how to do this because I’ve never-“

“Wade,” Peter says.

“Yeah?”

“I like you too, dumbass. And I wouldn’t mind your dick in my butt.”

Wade smiles like he just told him he won the goddamn lottery. “Well, shit. I guess we kind of have to do it, then.”

“I guess so,” Peter laughs, pulls him down so they can kiss again. Wade hums against his mouth and stretches out so he’s lying on top of him, sneaks his hand down to press against Peter’s dick. He makes a little surprised noise against his mouth.

“You sleep naked?”

Peter blushes. “Um, yeah?”

Wade moans and kisses down his neck, starts jerking him off. “That’s so fucking hot. Please tell me you have slick.”

“Yeah, it’s _mmh_ \- it’s in the drawer right there,” he pants, reaching out and patting the nightstand next to his bed.

Wade stops for a second so he can search for it, rifling through the drawer until he remarks, “Aha!” And pulls it out, pours some of it onto his fingers.

He licks into Peter’s mouth while he presses his fingers against him, slides one in slow and careful. When Peter starts whimpering and moving his hips he adds another, and the stretch of it feels so good that Peter bites Wade’s bottom lip, moans while his toes curl.

“Jesus,” Wade breathes. “That good, kid?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Peter moans, past the point of shame. “Another one, I can take it, c’mon.”

Wade kisses his neck and obeys, curls three fingers inside of him until Peter is whimpering and panting and fucking himself on his hand.

“Fuck me already,” he pants, whimpering when Wade raises his eyebrows and pulls his fingers out of him.

“Bossy,” he remarks, getting his dick wet with slick, stroking himself slow and lazy, and it’s mesmerizing to Peter, just watching him do it. “Maybe _you_ would be the best dominatrix.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, oh my god,” Peter laughs, pulling his legs up toward his chest, taking pleasure in the hitch in Wade’s breath when he does so.

“You look sinful like that. That should totally be illegal, what the fuck,” Wade says, stroking himself harder, pressing his cock right up against Peter’s hole, and Peter flushes pink with the compliment, moans when he starts pressing inside of him thick and hard and blood-heavy.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wade grits out, doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated, their hips pressed flush together. “You’re gonna think I’m a horrible person,” he pants, “but do you want to flip over? I’m dying to see how that ass looks with a dick in it, oh my _God_.” He shivers like he’s about to come just from thinking about it, and it somehow gets Peter off that Wade is so obsessed with his ass, so he _can’t_ say no.

“Yeah, yes,” he says, rushing, and lets Wade pull out so he can turn over onto his stomach, arch his back so that his ass is totally on display. He knows how to put on a good show.

“Oh my god,” Wade moans, and Peter can hear him working his own dick behind him. “You have no idea, holy shit. I’m never letting you out of the house again.”

Peter’s about to crack a joke about Wade being too old to stop him but then he’s spreading his cheeks with his thumbs and pressing in again, and Peter feels so overwhelmingly stuffed full of his cock that all he can do is whimper and arch his back more.

Wade grabs his hips in both hands, says, “You’re gonna kill me,” through gritted teeth, and pulls out a little, dicks back in again, bottoming out. “ _Christ_ , you’re tight.”

“Do you talk more than you fuck?” Peter teases, hoping to get a rise out of him, and Wade smacks his ass a little bit, makes him yelp.

“Message received,” he grunts, and starts fucking into him so hard that the bed is shaking with it.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Peter chokes out helplessly, falls farther forward onto his elbows, his voice muffled against the pillow. “Yeah, _yeah_ , like that-“

Wade smacks his ass again and he moans, ruts against the mattress hard and already feels like he’s going to come.

Wade stills his hips when he notices Peter rubbing himself off, moans, “ _Yeah_ , make yourself come like that, fuck yourself on my dick.”

Peter is too far gone to be embarrassed, just nods his head, whimpering high in his throat and grinding his hips back against Wade, feeling the stretch of his cock every time he ruts against the sheets.

“Gonna come,” he moans, fully seats himself on Wade’s cock and does, soaking the bed and his belly with it, biting his lip so hard he thinks it’s probably bleeding.

Wade lets him ride it out, enjoying the view, then pulls out and jerks himself off quick, moaning while he comes all over Peter’s ass and thighs. He presses back inside of him a few times, shuddering while he comes down, and then collapses next to him on the bed.

“Wow,” Wade pants, stretching out on the bed. Peter hums in agreement.

They lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, both of them coming down from all of it, and then Wade pokes Peter in the side to get him to turn over onto his back, looks down curiously at the puddle he made under him.

Peter blushes. “What?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you come webs. I didn’t really get to see it before. I’m kind of disappointed that you don’t, because that would be pretty fucking cool.”

“That’s it, I’m changing the locks.”

Wade laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ coldbuckys


End file.
